Mascot Man

As the mascot at my kids’ summer camp, I realized that we all want to know who is pulling the strings in life.

The thing I discovered, being the mascot at my kids’ summer camp, is that all kids want to know is who’s inside the costume. Even though the whole point of the costume in the first place is that the character on the outside is more interesting to kids. Inside the costume, I’m just another adult, albeit a sweaty, dehydrated one. Who’s not wearing much under the costume, because it’s a million degrees in there, though he’s the only one who knows it.

All kids want to know is who’s inside the costume. But inside I’m just a sweaty dehydrated adult.

It happens to be that it’s one of those camps where the head counselor wants everything to have a lesson, so that the kids can learn without even realizing that they’re learning. And studies show that one way of teaching kids things without them realizing it is to have them learn things by way of a mascot.

Also, it definitely helped that someone donated a costume for free.

Unfortunately, the guy didn’t donate someone to wear the costume. And the head counselor couldn’t very well be that person, because his job is to walk around with a megaphone. And the megaphone would be especially out of place, because mascots, officially, are not allowed to talk.

I’m not even sure how it happened. The head counselor called me up the night before camp, and the next thing I knew, I was wearing a costume.

Ok, it wasn’t that quick, actually. It took like 20 minutes to get into it. It’s mostly one piece, and you enter it through a small hole in the back. And then seal that hole with a zipper.

I don’t know what made him think I was the person to do this.

“Here, you’re a humor writer. Put on a costume and don’t talk.”

“What kind of costume is it?” I asked.

“We’re not sure,” he said.

It turns out it was some kind of big green dinosaur thing, or possibly a dragon thing, or still possibly an alligator or some kind of lizard. Though not the kind of lizard that blends in.

They eventually decided I was a crocodile, and that my theme was that even if you’re bad at something – sports, for example – you should still try. And I was to play the part of someone who was bad at something. It wasn’t hard for me. I was playing to my natural strengths.

I actually think it looks most like a dragon. Because we all know exactly what dragons looked like, back in the day. Because when you’re being chased by something that can kill you with fire, you’re going to stop to sketch it on a piece of paper.

Yes, you might say that dragons never existed. Were there really dragons? Maybe it’s one of those legends they came up with in the Middle Ages to keep people from wandering into caves. And it’s not my place to say, as a humor columnist. But this costume definitely existed. And if I was wearing a costume of Mickey Mouse, you’d have no problem with it, despite the fact that Mickey Mouse doesn’t exist either. In real life, there’s no such thing as a six-foot rodent, outside of Florida.

So I put on the costume, and I quickly discovered why dragons are extinct. For one thing, here’s something you might not know: Apparently, dragons see out of their mouths. In fact, if you peered into the dragon’s mouth, with a flashlight, you’d see my entire face in there. Like the dragon swallowed me whole. Once the zipper was closed, the only way in and out was through the mouth. Isn’t this where the fire comes out?

But no one thinks about this. Everyone always thinks, “Oh, Mickey Mouse! It must be a blast to be Mickey Mouse!”

Well, it’s not. From the inside, it doesn’t look like Mickey Mouse. People also assume there’s air conditioning in there. But there isn’t. It’s more like you strapped yourself with flannel blankets and wandered into the sun.

Maybe they think that because mascots are always smiling and look happy to be there. But that smile is permanent. They’re just smiling on the outside. It’s kind of like clowns who paint a smile on their face so you think they’re smiling even when they get hit in the face with pastries and climb into a car with 13 of their close friends and a designated driver. (“If the 13 of you don’t stop fighting, I’m coming back there!”)

It’s also not easy to keep your yarmulke on in a mascot costume.

And here’s something else no one tells you about mascot costumes: It’s not easy to keep your yarmulke on. Especially if you, at any point, attempt to see if you can turn your head. It’s kind of like when you wear boots all day, and your sock slowly comes off and starts migrating around in there. At some point I realized that my yarmulke was moving south, down the side of my face. At one point, it was covering my eye. If this ever happens, the only way to fix it is to reach way deep into the creature’s mouth, in front of everybody, with a velcro-ey, 4-fingered hand, and attempt to stick it on, which is sort of like reaching into the bottom of a vending machine and trying to put back an extra bag of chips that came out by mistake. So instead, I just pulled it out through the mouth, along with my glasses, which were falling off from all the jumping around I was doing. I think it looked, to the kids, like I’d swallowed someone and had to pick his yarmulke and glasses out of my teeth – they loved that. Though I couldn’t really tell, because I couldn’t see them.

It’s also hard to tell if there’s anyone’s around to help you. The first time I wore the costume, which was to stand next to the head counselor and greet kids on the first morning of camp, at some point I looked around (so to speak) and realized that no one was outside anymore. Everyone was busy taking care of kids. There was no one at the camp whose official job it was to lead the monster back to wherever it was he left his pants.

So I was left outside with no I.D., dying of thirst, and I had to feel my way around a building I’d never been in before. And I had to keep my head on, because I wasn’t supposed to do anything to ruin the kids’ illusion. And I couldn’t very well just take off the entire costume and drag it around the building, because I was in my underwear, and if you think it would scar kids to see the mascot without a head, imagine how much it would scar them if it looked like a guy in his boxers had skinned and beheaded the poor thing and was dragging it around the camp looking for a dressing room.

But the kids wouldn’t have been scarred. They would have been happy to find out who was in there.

Because whenever the head counselor brought me out, all the kids wanted to know is, “Who’s in there? Who’s in the costume?” As soon as my presentation was over, they’d mob me and try to pry open the mouth. The kids had one focus: Look up into the mouth and see who was in there.

But I actually messed up – some kids did see me afterward. After I got out of the costume, I came back in to retrieve my yarmulke and glasses, and they put two and two together. “It’s you!” they shouted. “You’re the one in the costume!”

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About the Author

Mordechai Schmutter writes a weekly humor column for Hamodia, a monthly humorous advice column for The Jewish Press, and a comic strip for The 20s and 30s of Brooklyn. He is also the author of the books, Don’t Yell “Challah” in a Crowded Matzah Bakery, A Clever Title Goes Here, This Side Up, and Cholent Mix, all published by Israel Book Shop. In his spare time, which doesn't exist, he attempts to teach Language Arts to a bunch of high school guys, most of whom are usually too upset that he showed up on any given day to even pay attention to his lessons. He is also available to do stand-up comedy. He lives in New Jersey, but no longer remembers why.

I'm told that it's a mitzvah to become intoxicated on Purim. This puzzles me, because to my understanding, it is not considered a good thing to become intoxicated, period.

One of the characteristics of the at-risk youth is their use of drugs, including alcohol. In my experience, getting drunk doesn't reveal secrets. It makes people act stupid and irresponsible, doing things they would never do if they were sober. Also, I know a lot about the horrible health effects of abusing alcohol, because I work at a research center that focuses on addiction and substance abuse.

Also, I am an alcoholic, which means that if I drink, very bad things happen. I have not had a drink in 22 years, and I have no intention of starting now. Surely there must be instances where a person is excused from the obligation to drink. I don't see how Judaism could ever promote the idea of getting drunk. It just doesn't seem right.

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Putting aside for a moment all the spiritual and philosophical reasons for getting drunk on Purim, this remains an issue of common sense. Of course, teenagers should be warned of the dangers of acute alcohol ingestion. Of course, nobody should drink and drive. Of course, nobody should become so drunk to the point of negligence in performing mitzvot. And of course, a recovering alcoholic should not partake of alcohol on Purim.

Indeed, the Code of Jewish Law explicitly says that if one suspects the drinking may affect him negatively, then he should NOT drink.

Getting drunk on Purim is actually one of the most difficult mitzvot to do correctly. A person should only drink if it will lead to positive spiritual results - e.g. under the loosening affect of the alcohol, greater awareness will surface of the love for God and Torah found deep in the heart. (Perhaps if we were on a higher spiritual level, we wouldn't need to get drunk!)

Yet the Talmud still speaks of an obligation on Purim of "not knowing the difference between Blessed is Mordechai and Cursed is Haman." How then should a person who doesn't drink get the point of “not knowing”? Simple - just go to sleep! (Rama - OC 695:2)

All this applies to individuals. But the question remains - does drinking on Purim adversely affect the collective social health of the Jewish community?

The aversion to alcoholism is engrained into Jewish consciousness from a number of Biblical and Talmudic sources. There are the rebuking words of prophets - Isaiah 28:1, Hosea 3:1 with Rashi, and Amos 6:6, and the Zohar says that "The wicked stray after wine" (Midrash Ne'alam Parshat Vayera).

It is well known that the rate of alcoholism among Jews has historically been very low. Numerous medical, psychological and sociological studies have confirmed this. The connection between Judaism and sobriety is so evident, that the following conversation is reported by Lawrence Kelemen in "Permission to Receive":

When Dr. Mark Keller, editor of the Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol, commented that "practically all Jews do drink, and yet all the world knows that Jews hardly ever become alcoholics," his colleague, Dr. Howard Haggard, director of Yale's Laboratory of Applied Physiology, jokingly proposed converting alcoholics to the Jewish religion in order to immerse them in a culture with healthy attitudes toward drinking!

Perhaps we could suggest that it is precisely because of the use of alcohol in traditional ceremonies (Kiddush, Bris, Purim, etc.), that Jews experience such low rates of alcoholism. This ceremonial usage may actually act like an inoculation - i.e. injecting a safe amount that keeps the disease away.

Of course, as we said earlier, all this needs to be monitored with good common sense. Yet in my personal experience - having been in the company of Torah scholars who were totally drunk on Purim - they acted with extreme gentleness and joy. Amid the Jewish songs and beautiful words of Torah, every year the event is, for me, very special.

Adar 12 marks the dedication of Herod's renovations on the second Holy Temple in Jerusalem in 11 BCE. Herod was king of Judea in the first century BCE who constructed grand projects like the fortresses at Masada and Herodium, the city of Caesarea, and fortifications around the old city of Jerusalem. The most ambitious of Herod's projects was the re-building of the Temple, which was in disrepair after standing over 300 years. Herod's renovations included a huge man-made platform that remains today the largest man-made platform in the world. It took 10,000 men 10 years just to build the retaining walls around the Temple Mount; the Western Wall that we know today is part of that retaining wall. The Temple itself was a phenomenal site, covered in gold and marble. As the Talmud says, "He who has not seen Herod's building, has never in his life seen a truly grand building."

Some people gauge the value of themselves by what they own. But in reality, the entire concept of ownership of possessions is based on an illusion. When you obtain a material object, it does not become part of you. Ownership is merely your right to use specific objects whenever you wish.

How unfortunate is the person who has an ambition to cleave to something impossible to cleave to! Such a person will not obtain what he desires and will experience suffering.

Fortunate is the person whose ambition it is to acquire personal growth that is independent of external factors. Such a person will lead a happy and rewarding life.

With exercising patience you could have saved yourself 400 zuzim (Berachos 20a).

This Talmudic proverb arose from a case where someone was fined 400 zuzim because he acted in undue haste and insulted some one.

I was once pulling into a parking lot. Since I was a bit late for an important appointment, I was terribly annoyed that the lead car in the procession was creeping at a snail's pace. The driver immediately in front of me was showing his impatience by sounding his horn. In my aggravation, I wanted to join him, but I saw no real purpose in adding to the cacophony.

When the lead driver finally pulled into a parking space, I saw a wheelchair symbol on his rear license plate. He was handicapped and was obviously in need of the nearest parking space. I felt bad that I had harbored such hostile feelings about him, but was gratified that I had not sounded my horn, because then I would really have felt guilty for my lack of consideration.

This incident has helped me to delay my reactions to other frustrating situations until I have more time to evaluate all the circumstances. My motives do not stem from lofty principles, but from my desire to avoid having to feel guilt and remorse for having been foolish or inconsiderate.

Today I shall...

try to withhold impulsive reaction, bearing in mind that a hasty act performed without full knowledge of all the circumstances may cause me much distress.

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